Lyrics of ' Black Mags ' by The Cool Kids
Black Mags is a song by The Cool Kids whose lyrics have countless searches, so we decided it deserves its place on this website, along with many other song lyrics that internet users want to know.
If you've been searching for the lyrics of the song Black Mags by The Cool Kids for a long time, start warming up your voice, because you won't be able to stop singing it.
Verse (Chuck):
I got this 89-90, Pistons champ flat/ bill black starter cap with the hologram tags/
White Mag rims, red rubber tires/
Chain, frame, pegs, grips, shift to my supplier/
Dope man attire, gimme bout an hour/
And I'll have it clicking, ticking, gliding, flying like McGuyver/
I'm a Murder Club, dope pedal rider/
Nigel said I'm good to get that ink on my bicep/
I gets, busy as a bee on my bike grips/
If I catwalk this, I walk, I can fly this/
Bitch and I'm fly, and it's tied to the side/
that's the flag that I'm flying/
Add to the fact that it all coincides with these wheels that I'm riding/
3pt Mags make you think that I'm gliding/
... Shiiiit nigga I aint lying/
I got a long rap sheet that'll say that I'm tied in/
Chorus
Verse (Mikey):
I hit chuck on the pager yo, I'm kinda bored/
And got class til later so, open garage/
And I don't really know which way to go, I aint tryna skate it though/
And my bikes illegal, so they send for the law/
But I don't care joe, I just keep on pedalin/
Ride past shorty light skinned with no melanin/
Shirt look like somebody stuffed two melons in/
Had to stop, so I could preach like revered/
I grip on the handbrake and say "Whatup?"/
I skip on the handshakes, I'm straight. What else? /
I got two pegs on the back, and you got two legs under your skirt/
So ho, we head/
To the Dope Pedal Headquarters/
You would be there if you could/
Chuck got the red wheels and the white mags, but it's all good/
Got the gold hundred spokes like Boys in the Hood/
With the lime green frame, dollars on the bike/
Seat, handlebar grips, is the same as my Nikes/
In the mold, the gold I use for my spokes/
And the frame, the same as I use for my chain/ Out!
Chorus
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